


When You Fall

by Timid_FlowerGirl



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson, Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternating Perspectives, Bisexual Evan Hansen, Café Musain, F/F, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Les Amis de l'ABC - Freeform, M/M, Marius likes butterflies and you can rip this hc out of my cold dead hands, Modern Era, Multi, Mutual Pining, Nothing severe though, Pining, Slow Burn, Treebros, Underage Smoking, VERY VERY VERY slow burn, enjoltaire - Freeform, i'll add tags as i go, literally everyone is pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2019-02-02
Packaged: 2019-09-25 13:51:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17122565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Timid_FlowerGirl/pseuds/Timid_FlowerGirl
Summary: Grantaire's world is spinning too slowly.Connor Murphy's world is spinning out of control.After both boy's first day of school goes horribly wrong, a chance encounter between the two and a small student activist group might just help them get through the school year.And it might not be so miserable after all.~~~The Les Miserables/Dear Evan Hansen crossover fic that no one asked for but everyone needs.Perspective alternates each chapter :)





	1. In which Evan meets a potential friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Evan's Perspective  
> ~~~  
> TW for some suicidal thoughts!

End of May or early June.

Looking back, it was a bit of a blur really… and Evan didn’t think it mattered that much anyways. Who wants to remember the day you climbed a tree with the intent of jumping out? Not Evan… definitely not Evan. 

It had been building up for a while. Days of sitting in class, wondering if anyone cared what he had to say, wondering why Jared seemed so much happier eating with people other than Evan. Or maybe not wondering, Evan knew anyone would be happier eating with someone other than him. Who wanted to sit with the biggest loser in school? If Evan was anyone else, he wouldn’t want to sit with himself. It wasn’t a very happy thought.

So there he was, walking through the trees. It might be the last time he ever saw those trees, the trees he loved so much. It was later in the day, and the evening sunlight was filtering through the canopy, casting a golden glow on the path and on Evan’s hands. The park was empty that late in the day, a fact Evan was thankful for. He could clearly hear the sound of the wind in the trees, the sound of his own footsteps, the sound of footsteps running up the path towards him-

Evan barely had time to react before someone ran right into him. He fell back, already apologizing. “I-I’m so so sorry- I should have watched where I was going y-you probably think I’m a clutz I didn’t mean to- a-are you hurt? D-do you need help?” 

Through his rambling, Evan barely noticed that the other person, a boy, was saying almost the exact same thing. The two finally made eye contact and both fell silent. The boy seemed around Evan’s age, and by the looks of it he shared Evan’s short thin stature. He had nice brown hair that fell in his eyes, and a heavy sprinkling of freckles across his nose. He was cute, Evan thought, but less of a Zoe Murphy cute and more cute like a mouse. 

“I am so… so sorry-” the boy squeaked, frantically jumping to his feet and reaching a hand out to help Evan up. 

Evan took it, brushing himself off once he was standing. “I-it’s okay… really… I’m just so clumsy-” 

“No no no, this was my fault, I was running and I didn’t see you-” 

Both boys stopped talking at the same time again, blushing embarrassed at each other.

“Let’s agree that this was both of our faults and move on” Evan said quietly, smiling shyly at the other boy. He was relieved to see him smiling as well. “Okay! But I uh… I still feel bad…”

“Don’t worry about it!” Evan laughed softly. The other boy laughed quietly with him, brushing his hair out of his eyes. 

“Um… why were you running?” Evan asked suddenly, inwardly cringing at his lame conversation starter. Why was he trying to talk to this strange boy anyways? 

The boy blushed brightly in response. “It’s really stupid…” he mumbled, twisting his hands together and looking down at his shoes. “I uh… there was this- there was a butterfly…” he seemed so embarrassed, an emotion Evan knew all too well. He smiled encouragingly. 

“And uh… it was really pretty? I think it might have been a monarch, I was trying to get a better look… I didn’t even realise I was running. There, stupid I know.”

Evan shook his head earnestly. “No no no, that doesn’t sound stupid! Butterflies are uh… r-really pretty! I’m more a tree person myself, but I do like all parts of nature-”

The boy’s face lit up. “Really? You like trees?” He said excitedly. “Well what’s your favourite type? I really like oak trees, they’re just so strong and beautiful, and I love the shape of the leaves. Also they’re really good trees for climbing…” 

Evan’s smile grew. “I-I like birch trees. They’re just- delicate, without being fragile… if that makes sense? They look almost… elegant. It’s nice.” He paused for a second. “Is that why you’re here right now? In the park? To look at trees and butterflies?” 

The boy blushed again. “Well uh… yeah… my grandfather and I just moved here, or he moved here and I had no choice but to come with him” Evan noticed the way his face fell at that statement. “And I thought I’d check out the park! Because we live right by here. I wanted to see the trees and flowers. What about you? Why did you come here?”

Because I’m sick of being forgotten by everyone I know and I want to jump out of a tree. “T-to see the trees! They calm me down… I really love them. I come here often.” He hoped his smile didn’t falter. Even if it did, the boy didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he was grinning at Evan. 

“I think you and I could be really good friends.” 

Evan tried to ignore the way his heart jumped at the prospect of a friend like that boy. 

“Can I get your name?” Oh my gosh he’s pulling out his phone. For the first time in years, Evan was talking to someone who wanted to be his friend, and he was about to ask for his phone number. 

“Evan… E-Evan Hansen” he said, his heart racing. But the boy wasn’t noticing. He was looking down at his phone screen instead, frowning sadly.

“I’m so sorry I- my grandfather- he gets mad if I stay out late and he’s calling me-” The boy was hastily stuffing his phone back into his pocket, beginning to walk away. “Look I- I’ll find you some other time, okay? I’m really sorry-” 

But there might not be another time-

Evan’s eyes widened frantically. “W-wait I- can I have your name?” The boy didn’t stop hastily walking, but instead turned and called over his shoulder. 

“Marius Pontmercy!” He yelled. 

And then he was running back down the path, and Evan was alone again. Alone with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Marius was everything Evan had ever wanted in a friend… and he was running away from Evan. The odds of them meeting again were so slim- maybe in a different world, maybe then they could be best friends.

Taking deep breaths, Evan continued down the path feeling even sadder than before. He needed a big tree… a strong tree… something that was good for climbing- 

Something like the forty foot oak that was right in front of him.


	2. In which Grantaire starts at a new school and pisses off Apollo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire's Perspective

There were many things Grantaire hated.

Obnoxious people, dried paint, broken pencils, neon colours, the list went on and on. At the top of the list, right under his parents, was the first day of school. No, the first day at a new school. 

So there he was, at a new school on his first day of senior year, loathing every miserable second of it. The way two jocks were tossing a football back and forth dangerously close to his head, the little freshman girl clutching her books so tight her knuckles were turning white, the kid with a broken arm plodding sadly past him, the gorgeous raven haired girl walking towards him-

Oh. That he didn’t hate. In fact, that was quite possibly the only thing that could make Grantaire smile on the first day of school. And he did just that, smiling as the girl broke into a run and threw herself into Grantaire’s arms. He hugged her tightly, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume and pulling away with a wide grin. 

“Eponine Thénardier” he laughed, pulling her in for another tight hug, this time lifting her off her feet. She laughed with him, and it was the most beautiful recognizable sound Grantaire knew. 

“R! I can’t believe you’re actually at my school this year! I thought you were lying when you said you were coming here” She said happily, holding his hands tightly. “Finally, someone other than Montparnasse to sneak off and get high with!” she lowered her voice when she said that, giving him her signature mischievous smirk that Grantaire knew and loved. 

“Mmm, missed me?” he chuckled, raising an eyebrow. 

Eponine and Grantaire had known each other since they were six. His earliest memory of her was walking into his first grade classroom to find the biggest boy in the class pinned to the ground, whining and begging Eponine to get off of him. “That should teach you that girls can do more than cook and clean” she had snarled, getting off of him and pushing past the crowd of first graders that had formed around her. Grantaire watched with wide eyes as she glared daggers at him. “What are you staring at?” She had hissed, leaving the classroom and not returning for the rest of the day.

From that moment onward, Grantaire had wanted nothing more than to be Eponine’s friend.

He had tried desperately throughout most of primary school, asking to be her partner for projects, following her around at recess, agreeing with everything she said in class. 

Six year old Eponine wanted nothing to do with him.

Until one day in the middle of fifth grade, she showed up on his doorstep with dark bags under her eyes, asking if she could sleep at his house. 

Considering his parents were almost never home, Grantaire let her in without a second thought and watched as she collapsed on his couch and fell instantly asleep.

She was gone when he woke up in the morning.

But from then on, Eponine treated Grantaire with the one thing he had been wanting from her: respect. She started to eat lunch with him frequently, asking him questions about the sketchbook he always carried around. One day she asked him to draw her, and Grantaire spent longer on the drawing than he had on any other. The day he showed it to her was the first time he saw her genuinely smile. 

She showed up at his house almost everyday after school, and they worked on homework and chatted about anything that came to mind. Sometimes she spent the night. He never asked why, but as they got older and she started to bring a kid with her after school, her younger brother, Gavroche, he learned that it was something to do with their family and was better left secret. 

Eponine was there the day Grantaire came to terms with his bisexuality. She smiled and told him she had known since fifth grade. Grantaire grinned and repeated the same about her.

The two started off at the same highschool. When classes got hard and family life got harder, the two would sneak off to smoke. Sometimes they were joined by Montparnasse, a long time acquaintance of Eponine, but more often than not it was the two of them, huddled together under the bleachers. 

At the start of Junior year, Eponine moved schools. Grantaire never knew why. In her first week, she met Cosette; a beautiful blonde girl who knit a scarf for every person she met and volunteered at a pet shelter every other day.

She was perfect, and Grantaire was terrified she would ruin what him and Eponine had. 

But even when Cosette and Eponine became an item, (Grantaire had grinned cheekily and dubbed them “Eposette”. Eponine has hit him with a pillow and knocked him off the couch.) Eponine still showed up at his house almost every day, even if it was later at night. She still brought Gavroche, she still loved Grantaire like a brother. And Grantaire knew nothing could change that. Not even a change of schools.

Because there Grantaire stood, in front of the school that him and his Eponine shared once again, with Eponine smiling up at him in the way she always saved for the people she really cared about.

And then there was the petite blonde girl in a flouncy pink sundress running towards them and throwing herself into Eponine’s arms. “Eppy!!!” she exclaimed excitedly, as Eponine smiled that gentle happy smile she only used with one person.

“Cosette!” Eponine giggled, spinning her girlfriend around before setting her down and kissing her sweetly on the cheek. Cosette laughed, her eyes widening when she saw Grantaire. 

“R!” she squeaked, jumping into Grantaire’s arms. He hugged her tightly; he couldn’t help it, he loved Cosette. 

“Hey ‘Sette, looks like I’m going to be at school with you and Ponine this year.” Cosette bounced excitedly, (“bounce” always seemed like the perfect word to describe Cosette) beaming at Grantaire and then at Eponine. “Really? This is amazing! This is going to be so much fun!”

Right on cue, the bell rang and Cosette pulled the two of them into the building, skipping with Eponine to their first class after pecking Grantaire’s cheek and making him promise to meet them at lunchtime. 

As soon as the girls were gone, the reality of where he was returned to Grantaire and he groaned, scrubbing his hand over his face and through his tangled black curls. It was no use; no amount of Eponine’s hugs and Cosette cheary laugh could make the first day at a new school a good day. He rummaged in his backpack for his timetable, grimacing at the day ahead. Math first, which… Well, math was pretty much a guaranteed snooze fest. Then homeroom. It was followed directly by geography; an even bigger bore than math. Sighing and mentally steeling himself, Grantaire located his first classroom and slunk to the back, seating himself behind a short boy with a pair of thick glasses. 

As he had predicted, math was an absolute drag, and homeroom was no better. (His teacher insisted they went around the classroom and introduced themselves and said something they did over the summer. Grantaire had informed the class that he had spent the summer locked in his room reading gay fanfiction, and was met with laughs from his classmates and a glare from his teacher.) He slept through geography and was woken up by a tall muscular boy who was very clearly an athlete nudging his shoulder and informing him that class was over and the teacher would notice if he didn’t grab his things. Grantaire grunted a thanks, grabbing his backpack and trudging outside to locate Eponine and Cosette for lunch. 

Lunch passed way too fast for Grantaire’s liking. He, Cosette, and Eponine had sat together under a tree behind the school, Cosette talking excitedly about the social justice club her and Eponine had been a part of the year prior. Grantaire had listened intently, roughly sketching her and Eponine’s profile where they sat hand in hand. It was a pretty picture, and he promised himself he would work more on it later.

The bell rang and Eponine and Cosette were off to their next class (they had an almost identical schedule, a fact Grantaire found rather intriguing especially considering Cosette’s father was the school’s principal) and Grantaire found himself wandering in search of his history class, mentally cursing when he walked in to find the back rows full. He chose a seat in the second row from the front, one of the only available, behind a boy with blonde hair who was in the middle of a heated debate with the girl sitting beside him. 

After five agonizingly slow minutes, the teacher finally walked in, setting a stack of books on the desk and giving the class a kind smile. He was short and a little stout, with greying hair and wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose. 

“Good afternoon students, as you can hopefully see from your timetables, I am Mr. Mabeuf, your history teacher.” His voice was warm and agreeable, and Grantaire instantly liked him. History class would obviously still be one of the most boring classes of the day, but Mabeuf seemed a lot better than the stuck up prick of a history teacher Grantaire had had at his old school. He settled down in his seat, listening as the teacher continued. 

“Now, I know some of you are new to my class, and I would like to give you all a warm welcome. I hope I won’t bore you too much this year.” Yup. Grantaire liked him. “But I do recognize some familiar faces from past years-” he beamed at the blonde boy in front of Grantaire. “And I would like to welcome all of you back! I’m sure this will be a wonderful class.” He went around the edge of his desk, still smiling happily. “Now I’m sure some of your teachers already started to give you work, but I don’t believe in something like that. How about you all tell me something interesting you did over the summer. Volunteers?”

As Grantaire sank further down in his seat to avoid being chosen, the blonde boy in front of him raised his hand with more purpose than Grantaire had ever imagined could be put into a simple gesture like that. Mabeuf smiled at him. “Enjolras? I’m sure you did something quite fascinating, you always do. Care to share?” 

The blonde boy stood up, angling his body so he was partially facing the class, but still able to see Mabeuf. And that was the first time Grantaire fully looked at him. 

The most noticeable thing about him of course was his hair: perfect golden curls that he had tied back with a blue ribbon, though some still hang gracefully around his face. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt under a red bomber jacket, with a pair of worn jeans that were fitting way too tight for Grantaire to handle. 

And oh god. His face. Jawline sharp enough to cut a brick, lips red and perfectly shaped, cheeks tinted pink and caerulean eyes that could only be described as hypnotic. He looked like he had been carved from marble, like one of the statues of greek gods that Grantaire was so fascinated with. Hell, he did look like a god with his perfectly sculpted face, youthful and bright and with such a commanding presence. Grantaire’s fingers itched to draw him, to paint him in brilliant colours and trace the curves of his hips with the point of a pencil, but he didn’t think he could capture that brilliance on paper.

Fuck.

He was already smitten. 

Enjolras, on the other hand, seemed very unaware of the affects he was having on Grantaire. Instead, he began talking to the class with a voice that Grantaire was positive could command an army. 

“Combeferre and I went to Paris for three weeks.” He even said ‘Paris’ with a french accent. “Pah-ree.” How fucking pretentious. Grantaire was hopelessly head over heels. 

“We got a Political Science credit for it, it was part of a travel education program. It really was something Monsieur, you would have loved it.” Though he was speaking to the teacher, it felt like he was addressing the whole room. It was the way he was holding himself. It bore the mark of someone accustomed to speaking in front of crowds. 

Mabeuf smiled at Enjolras with the expression of a proud father. “That’s wonderful Enjolras, I hope you and Combeferre had a lovely time. Did you and your group do any more rallies over the summer?” 

Enjolras beamed. “Yes, we had one at town hall at the end of August. We were pushing for an updated sex ed curriculum that includes LGBT youth.” Grantaire could tell he wanted to say more, probably go into a long winded lecture by the looks of it. “We also held an open meeting night at the Café Musain about climate change.” 

Jesus, he had the audacity to say it as if it was nothing. As if studying abroad in Paris and organizing rallies was an everyday chore. Enjolras certainly had a way of making something in Grantaire stir. The words were out of Grantaire’s mouth before he had a moment to think. 

“Trying to rule the world Apollo?”

Apollo. A-fucking-pollo. Grantaire mentally kicked himself. What the hell was he thinking? Enjolras’s eyes were on him in a second, narrowed in annoyance and confusion. It took a lot more strength than Grantaire knew he possessed not to cower under that glare. Yet he managed to hold firm, arms crossed over his chest as he sat leaning back in his chair with a smug smile on his face. 

Enjolras’s expression was hard to read, and he seemed to be wrestling for something to say. He straightened his back, tossing his head to get one of his curls out of his eyes before fixing Grantaire with that cool stare once again. 

“No. But I’m sure as hell trying to change it.” 

Grantaire was certain he visibly shivered at the blonde’s icy tone. He prayed he didn’t. He raised an eyebrow, smirking up at him. “I don’t see a difference between the two to be quite honest.”

That seemed to strike a nerve with Enjolras. He turned himself so he was fully facing Grantaire, his hands clenched in fists at his side. Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire could see their teacher watching them with wide eyes. He almost seemed afraid to interrupt. The room was silent, everyone watching him and Enjolras. He shrank into himself slightly. He knew he couldn’t back down. “Good luck with that then.”

Enjolras’s eyes flashed angrily, and he took a step towards Grantaire that was all too menacing. “What on earth is your problem?” He hissed.

Grantaire raised his arms up as if in surrender, letting out a small laugh to hide his nerves. “Hey, I’m just being honest. This world is fucked up enough that I don’t think anything can change it, not even a clever rich boy like you.” He regretted the words instantly. Enjolras opened his mouth to retort with what Grantaire was sure would be a scathing remark, but they were interrupted by Mabeuf. 

“Boys, boys please settle down.” He looked pointedly at Enjolras, twisting his hands together. He was obviously anxious, and Grantaire felt awful for making him stressed. Enjolras relaxed slightly, apologizing softly to the teacher before slipping back into his seat, muttering under his breath. 

“Cynic.”

The word cut deeper than Grantaire had been expecting. He winced, biting his lip and sinking lower into his chair. 

Mabeuf was back at the front of the classroom. “Alright, that sounds very wonderful Enjolras! I’m proud of you. Now uh… any other volunteers?” The girl sitting next to Enjolras raised her hand. “Ah, miss Alana Beck. I’m sure you were present at Enjolras’s rally, yes?”

As the girl launched into a detailed description of all of her volunteer work over the summer, Grantaire sank lower in his seat, the word “cynic” still ringing in his ears. 

He hated this. 

He hated the way his classmates seemed infinitely smarter than him. He hated that he didn’t have a single class with Eponine. He hated that he had to be at a new school. Most of all, he hated how a single word he had heard uttered his way countless times, now spoken by a stranger, could cut so deep. He hated that Enjolras had that power over him. The power to make him do stupid things, and the ability to hurt Grantaire with a single useless word. 

Grantaire hated himself. 

Class dragged on far too slow; suddenly Mabeuf’s cheerful voice was less of a comfort and more of an irritant. He sent a quick message to Eponine asking if she wanted to ditch next period, but got no reply. Of course. She was with Cosette. 

Finally, class was over. Grantaire couldn’t be out of that room fast enough. He grabbed his bag and was the first out the door, not even bothering to look at his schedule. He wasn’t planning to go to his next class anyways. He finally made it out of the school, making a beeline for the bleachers. He desperately needed something to take the edge off of his anger, but he knew he didn’t have anything on him. 

Grantaire stumbled to a stop when he made it behind the bleachers, upset but not at all surprised to find that he wasn’t the only one with the idea to skip class. The other boy didn’t seem to notice Grantaire, and instead stood looking forward expressionless, a blunt balanced in his fingers. He had long brown hair that came down just past his shoulders, and was wearing all black. His eyes were bloodshot. Apparently Grantaire wasn’t the only one having a bad first day.

Grantaire walked towards him, sighing and pulling out his wallet. “How much?”

The boy seemed startled by Grantaire’s words, and Grantaire watched as his eyes quickly scanned him, obviously deeming him to not be a threat. He frowned at Grantaire.

“Put that away, you don’t need to pay me. You look like you need it.” He bent down, rummaging in his backpack before tossing Grantaire a bag of already rolled joints. “Besides, I’m not a drug dealer.”

Grantaire mumbled a quiet thanks under his breath and pulled out a blunt, rummaging in his pocket for his lighter. He leaned back against the bleachers, inhaling deeply and closing his eyes and willing the calm to sink in. 

The boy was watching him out of the corner of his eyes. It looked like he was searching for something to say. Finally, he broke the silence. “So, what brings you out here? Tough morning?” 

Grantaire let out a sad laugh. “You have no idea…” He grumbled.

The boy gave him a sad smile. “I might have more of an idea than you know. What happened?”

Normally, Grantaire hated talking to strangers. But the boy seemed nice. Not nice like someone like Cosette who always made people around her happy, but more nice like Eponine. He felt easy to talk to. Trustworthy. Like the type of person that normally repelled people but who Grantaire liked to be friends with. He sighed, taking another hit. “Let’s just say that I possibly ruined my chances with a guy I never had a chance with in the first place.”

The boy chuckled, looking away from Grantaire in favour of staring blankly in front of him. “Join the club.” He mumbled, blowing out a steady stream of smoke. 

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, turning his head to look at him. “Really. You too? Thought I was the only one.” He laughed sadly to himself. Maybe it was just the marijuana making him bolder, but something compelled Grantaire to extend his hand towards the boy. 

“Grantaire. I know it’s a bit of a mouthful, so most people just call me R.”

The boy hesitated for a second before giving Grantaire’s hand a firm shake. He gave him a small smile, genuine and almost happy this time.

“Connor Murphy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! I'll be updating as often as I can.


	3. In which Connor Murphy definitely, 100%, fucks up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Connor's Perspective  
> ~~~  
> Some underage smoking, but nothing either of these fandoms haven't seen

“Connor Murphy, for the last time, I do NOT want you going to school high!” 

Connor rolled his eyes and crossed his arms as he sank down in his seat. “Perfect, so then I won’t go! Thanks Mom!” He flashed her a sarcastic smile, feeling his stomach sink as her face fell. 

Except he wasn’t high. He really wasn’t. 

In all honesty, Connor wasn’t high as much as people thought he was. He just had a tendency to close himself off. People blamed it on pot, but it was just Connor trying not to lash out. He hated that his entire family thought that. He hated that he let them think that. That he didn’t defend himself. But Connor knew that if he insisted he wasn’t, they wouldn’t believe him. Why should they? He wouldn’t believe himself. 

He glanced across the table at Zoe, clenching his hands in fists under the table at the look of disgust on her face. He quickly glanced back down at the untouched plate of food in front of him. He didn’t have the energy for this today.

Truthfully, Connor had considered smoking before going to school. It would have been easier to function high… easier to handle all the shit people said about him when they didn’t think he could hear them. Contrary to popular believe, Connor saw smoking as a weakness. Every time he needed to smoke to cope, he hated himself for it. Normal people didn’t need drugs to keep them from freaking out.

But then again, when was Connor Murphy ever normal? 

Zoe was out of her seat, clearing her dishes before standing next to the table and crossing her arms. “I’m leaving now, and Connor if you’re not ready I’m not driving you.”

Ah yes, of course. Zoe and her constant reminder that Connor didn’t have his own car to take to school. Not since Larry had taken it away, insisting that he would get it back when his math grades got higher and his room stopped smelling like marijuana. Connor knew he was never getting the car back. 

He turned towards his sister, giving her a sickeningly sweet smile. “I’ll walk thanks.” He said, his voice icy. 

He stood up, not even bothering to say goodbye to his parents before pushing past Zoe. He pulled his boots on and grabbed his backpack, heading out the door and starting the trek to school. 

Every goddamn year, the halls felt smaller. Tighter. More claustrophobic. And every year, the need Connor felt to leave class was more overwhelming. Luckily, his self restraint was good. Not good enough to prevent an outburst, but good enough to keep him in his seat. He got to class just as the bell rang, secretly proud of his ability to time his entrance perfectly to avoid human interaction.

Now for the hardest part- actually making it through the day.

Morning classes dragged on, as expected. Connor kept his head down and his arms crossed across his chest for most of them, only speaking when absolutely necessary. Sure, maybe not the best impression on his teachers, but it was better than what they would think if he lashed out. But Connor got through his classes nonetheless, letting his posture relax slightly as he exited his last class before lunch. Finally, he had almost an entire hour to decompress. He headed outside to his usual spot. It was secluded and quiet, and Connor could actually hear himself think there.

He sat down cross legged, reaching into his backpack and pulling out his lunch. It was a singular apple. Connor didn’t let his mom pack his lunches anymore, wanting to be independent. But between waking up and getting to school, he found he never had time to grab something substantial. So an apple would do. He rummaged in his bag some more before pulling out a beaten up copy of Gone With the Wind. He opened it to a dog eared page and began eating quietly as he read.

Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad day, or even year. He had made it through the morning without smoking, maybe he could make it through the afternoon. And then the week. Maybe this would be the year things started turning around. 

Of course, nothing good ever lasted long for Connor Murphy. 

Feeling surprisingly calm for once, Connor headed inside ten minutes before the bell. He was going to get to class on time. He was going to be good this year. For the most part, the hallway was empty, but he still kept his head down. Even though he was in a good mood, Connor knew that his classmates had a tendency to push his buttons. And Connor should have known. No good feeling could last longer than a few minutes. 

“Hey Connor! I’m loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic.”

Connor froze. All positivity from minutes before was gone. Every ounce of common sense he had was screaming at him to walk away. Just walk away. Don’t engage. Keep walking and maybe they would stop bothering him. 

But when did Connor Murphy ever listen to his common sense?

Slowly, he turned around, glaring daggers at the boy who had spoken. Of course. Jared fucking Kleinman. Had he expected anyone else? Fucking douchebag. Figured too, somehow the most frustrating boy in the school was friends with- 

“I was kidding. It was a joke.” 

Connor felt his stomach twist angrily, and he knows he’s going to lash out. There was no way he was walking out of there happy. 

“Yeah, no, it was funny. I’m laughing. Can’t you tell? Am I not laughing hard enough for you?” 

The words were out of his mouth before he had time to think, starting off quiet and ending with his voice flaring louder and angrier. Jared’s smirk faltered, and Connor hated himself for the satisfaction he felt at how the shorter boy suddenly looked almost scared. 

He laughed nervously, taking a step away from Connor. 

“You’re such a freak.” 

And that was the point of no return, to put it eloquently. Connor knew with complete certainty that he was going to do something rash and impulsive. Jesus, he wanted to punch that smug smile off of Kleinman’s face. But Jared was gone, walking quickly down the hallway away from Connor. Fleeing the crime scene apparently. Connor let out a slow breath, trying and failing to calm himself. 

Then, from his right, Connor heard someone laugh.

It sounded more nervous than mocking, but Connor was too angry to care. He whipped around towards the sound, glaring at the culprit through his hair. He was too angry to notice who it was. 

“What the fuck are you laughing at.”

The person, a boy much shorter than Connor, tensed up. “W-what?”

“Stop fucking laughing at me.”

“I’m not-”

“You think I’m a freak?”

“No. I don’t-” 

“I’m not the freak.”

“B-but I wasn’t-”

“You’re the fucking freak!”

Anger clouding his judgement, Connor stepped closer to the boy, planting his palms firmly on his chest and shoving him. The boy was much smaller than Connor, and he fell easily, curling into himself and looking away from the taller teen. He was trembling. Connor stormed away, not wanting to engage further. He needed to be away from people before he lashed out more. 

Of course, before rounding the corner, Connor took one more look over his shoulder at the boy he had pushed. Only then did he see who it was. 

FUCK.

He could have pushed anyone. He could have pushed Kleinman, ensured that he wouldn’t bother him anymore. He could have pushed one of the countless jocks who made snide comments about him. Or maybe one of the boys who used to tape signs with crude sayings to his back in middle school. It could have been anyone else in the entire world. But it had to be Evan Hansen. 

Evan Hansen, who sat alone at lunch reading all of the books Connor loved.

Evan Hansen, who scribbled messy little trees in the margins of his science notes. 

Evan Hansen, with his small shy smile and quiet laugh that only surfaced once in a blue moon.

Evan Hansen, who could barely make it through a presentation in english class without stuttering and shaking in a way that made someone watching want to hold him and protect him from the world.

Evan Hansen, who was an outcast just like Connor.

Evan Hansen, who Connor Murphy had been madly, hopelessly, painfully in love with since the first day of freshman year. 

The day could not possibly go worse.

Connor felt sick. He had been watching Evan for long enough to know that he was definitely panicking after being pushed. He also knew that Evan didn’t have anyone who would help to comfort him. 

Connor was still staring, leaning heavily on the wall as more people filtered into the hallways. His legs felt too weak to support him. Evan was huddled up against the locker, hugging his knees tightly, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His left arm was covered in a hard cast, devoid of any signatures.

In that moment, Connor wanted nothing more than to run to Evan. He wanted to hug him close, brush those golden brown locks of hair out of his eyes, kiss his cheek and his forehead, rock him and comfort him until he had calmed down. He wanted to sign his cast to show him that someone cared. He wanted to protect him from the students walking past him and looking down at him with disgust. He wanted to pull him out of their miserable, miserable school, and bring him somewhere where people wouldn’t make him panic.

But did Connor even deserve to do that? He was the one who had pushed Evan in the first place. He was the one responsible for the way he was trembling and curling into himself. Connor had done that to him. 

Connor had done that to him.

Suddenly, all of the hatred and anger Connor had felt for his classmates moments before was turned inward. He was responsible for triggering a panic attack in Evan Hansen. God, he was such a fuck up. 

Connor tore his eyes away from Evan’s trembling form, unable to watch him any longer. He needed to smoke. He couldn’t go to class, not like this. He needed something to calm his anger and self loathing before he did something rash and impulsive. 

The bell rang, and Connor didn’t even bother going to class. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder, storming out the front doors and stumbling towards the bleachers. He collapsed in his usual spot, wiping angrily at the tears forming in his eyes. Connor reached into his bag, rummaging around until his hands felt the thin plastic bag that he carried his joints in. His hands shook as he pulled one out, lighting it and inhaling deeply. He had failed. He had barely gotten through half a day. What was the point in trying anymore? Nobody would notice if he disappeared. Besides, then it would be one less person to hurt Evan. Connor choked down a sob, inhaling again. Any minute now it would kick in. Then maybe all of his fucked up feelings would be hidden behind the smoke.

Gradually, Connor calmed down. The bell rang, signalling the end of the period, but Connor made no move to get back to class. He stood up and stretched before leaning back against the fence and inhaling deeply again. He stared blankly forward, trying desperately not to think about the way Evan had trembled and shook as he sat on the ground.

“How much?”

Connor jolted slightly, turning his head quickly to see who was speaking.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one having a bad day.

The boy was just a bit shorter than Connor, and was wearing a dark green flannel over a black t-shirt. He had a green beanie pulled over messy black curls, and wore a tired and upset expression that Connor knew all too well. He had his wallet in his hands, poised to give Connor money.

“Put that away, you don’t need to pay me. You look like you need it.” Connor didn’t need money. Besides, he already had enough of a bad reputation at the school. He didn’t need to be a drug dealer on top of that. He bent down, reaching into his bag and pulling out his joints. He tossed the bag to the other boy. “Besides, I’m not a drug dealer.”

The boy caught the bag easily, pulling out a joint and fishing in his pocket for a lighter. “Thanks.” He lit the end of the blunt, leaning against the bleachers next to Connor.

Maybe it was because of the calm induced by the pot, but Connor found himself wanting to talk to the boy. He wanted to know why he was ditching class. 

“So, what brings you out here? Tough morning?”

The boy let out a sad little laugh. “You have no idea…” He mumbled, taking another hit.  
Connor smiled sadly. “I might have more of an idea than you know. What happened?”

The boy seemed to be mulling over what to say. He rolled the blunt idly in his fingers, taking a deep breath before speaking. 

“Let’s just say that I possibly ruined my chances with a guy I never had a chance with in the first place.”

On cue, Connor’s mind jumped to the memory of Evan sitting huddled on the floor, shaking and breathing heavily. The fraction of a chance he might have had with Evan was most certainly gone now. He laughed dryly. “Join the club.” 

The boy quirked an eyebrow, turning to face Connor better. “Really. You too? Thought I was the only one.” He laughed sadly. 

They sat in silence for a moment, both boys obviously lost in painful memories from the morning. The other boy was the first to break the silence, turning more completely towards Connor and extending a hand. 

“Grantaire. I know it’s a bit of a mouthful, so most people just call me R.”

Connor turned to look at him better, hesitating for a second. He didn’t think he had ever seen Grantaire around school before, he seemed like someone Connor would be able to remember. Normally he didn’t trust new people, but something about this new boy felt genuine. Maybe Connor could actually make a friend. He took Grantaire’s outstretched hand, giving it a firm shake. He smiled.

“Connor Murphy.” 

Grantaire grinned, pulling away. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Connor Murphy.” 

Connor smiled in response. He took another hit, trying to think of a way to continue the conversation. It wasn’t every day that someone genuinely wanted to talk to him, and he was at a loss of what to say. 

“So… R?” He raised an eyebrow.

Grantaire let out a laugh, not sad and self-depreciating like he had before, but instead genuine and almost happy. 

“It's a pun. Grantaire, in french it’s almost like-”

“Grand-R. Capital R. Of course.” Connor smiled slightly, glad that years of french class were finally put to use. Grantaire’s eyes widened. It was clear he wasn’t used to people understanding it. Connor chuckled. “It’s clever.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a second more before Connor spoke again. “So tell me R, what exactly happened that brought you out here?”

Grantaire’s smile from before faltered, and he looked down at his feet. Great. Connor had done it again- upset someone who might actually like him. He was already trying to find a way to exit the conversation when Grantaire spoke. 

“I-... there’s this boy in my history class.” He was speaking slowly, seemingly searching for words as he spoke. “I only met him today, so I know it’s stupid… I’m new to this school.” He explained. Connor nodded, encouraging him to keep speaking.

“Anyways, he’s-...” He was definitely struggling for words. “An anomaly. He looks like one of those statues they used to build in ancient greece. He’s like-” He hesitated. “Like Apollo. Speaks like a God too.” Grantaire shrugged, taking another hit before continuing. “I know it’s stupid, since I barely know him. But fuck, I’m already hooked.” 

He sighed sadly, and Connor suddenly felt almost guilty for asking. It felt like something very personal. 

“Anyways, I’m a fucking- I can’t hold my tongue. Ever. So of course I had to criticize him when he was speaking in class about his attempts at making the world a better place or some shit. And let me tell you Murphy, there’s no way to win an argument with him. He’s got a way with words, you can tell after listening for half a minute.” Grantaire sighed, running a hand through his curls. 

“Like I said, I never stood a chance with him in the first place. But now he hates my guts. He thinks-” He looked down at his feet before continuing sadly. “He knows that I’m nothing but a cynical fuck up.” He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes and breathing out a steady stream of smoke. 

It was clear to Connor that Grantaire doesn’t normally share stuff like this to near strangers. But Connor was almost thankful. Finally, someone who trusted him. 

Grantaire sighed sadly before looking back up at Connor. “What about you? How badly did you screw up?” He laughed dryly. 

And oh, Connor really didn’t want to relive what he did to Evan. He hadn’t told anyone about his crush, and he wanted to keep it that way. If more people knew, the heartbreak would be that much more real. But Grantaire trusted Connor, and Connor felt obligated to return the favour. He crossed his arms protectively over his chest, looking down at his beaten up combat boots.

“I’ve had a crush on this boy since freshman year.” 

Sure enough, saying it out loud for the first time stung like vinegar in a paper cut. 

“He’s-... he’s far too good for me, I’ve known that for a while. He’s small, and kind, and so so shy, it makes me want to-” he let out a shaky breath. “To just- shield him. Protect him from anyone who means him harm.” He let out a sad laugh. “Of course, that means shielding him from me apparently. I… I pushed him.” 

Connor whispered the last part, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. 

“I thought he was laughing at me. I didn’t see who it was… so yeah, I pushed him. Probably triggered a panic attack. He’ll probably be terrified of me now.” Connor’s voice wavered as he spoke. 

Grantaire let out a low whistle. “Geez… that is bad.” He mumbled. Connor was too mad at himself to be upset by the comment. He nodded, and whispered a quiet “I know.” 

Grantaire fiddled with the joint in his hands. “Look… I’m clearly not an expert on relationships.” He chuckled softly before continuing. “But, I think you should talk to him.”

Connor’s eyes shot open, and he turned around to face Grantaire. He opened his mouth to speak, but Grantaire raised a hand to silence him.

“Look, I know, I know. It isn’t supposed to be easy. But I think if you find him and apologize, then at least it shows that you know you did something wrong. Then maybe you can get back to neutral ground. If you can manage to… to make him less scared, make him see that you’re actually not a threat, then maybe he’ll see you in a different light. Then maybe you can get on speaking terms with him.”

It wasn’t a bad idea. But Connor didn’t think he was capable of speaking to Evan; looking him in the eye and seeing the terror and fear the smaller boy certainly felt towards him. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his eyes. 

“Look Murphy, I can’t make this decision for you. But I really think this could work. If you show him you care, then maybe you could stand a chance.”

Connor sighed. “Assuming he even likes guys.” he grumbled. 

Grantaire frowned. “True… but you could at least be friends.”

It was tempting. Even just a friendship with Evan Hansen would be beyond Connor’s wildest dreams. He bit his lip, thinking for a second.

“Fine. I’ll find him after school and try to apologize. But I’m not betting on him forgiving me.” He looked down at his hands and cleared his throat. “Thanks by the way… for listening. It’s more than most people do.” He glanced at Grantaire out of the corner of his eyes.

Grantaire was smiling, seemingly happy that he could help Connor. Maybe they could be friends. Maybe someone did care. 

“Anytime Murphy… I’m glad I could help. And I’m always happy to listen… you did the same for me. Maybe… I dunno, maybe we could be friends of sorts. I could use an ally here, someone to show me the ropes.” He bumped Connor’s shoulder gently.

And for the second time that day, Connor Murphy was inclined to believe that maybe, just maybe, it would be a good year after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taking me forever to get around to updating this, I'm super busy with school. I promise that as soon as I can I'll have the next chapter up! :)  
> I've loved the idea of Connor and Grantaire being close friends for the longest time so this whole exchange makes me far too happy. Gotta love those edgy pining boys


	4. In which Connor Murphy fucks up, again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor's perspective  
> ~~~  
> TW for suicidal thoughts

In theory, it was easy.

Just walk up to Evan, apologize for what he had done, make sure he knew how sorry Connor was, then strike up a conversation. Maybe Connor could ask Evan about trees… Evan loved trees, Connor knew that. One time in sophomore year, when Connor was sitting in front of Evan in science, Evan had corrected the teacher on a tree fact. She had told them that the tree on the board was an oak, and Evan had raised a shaking hand and told her quietly that it was actually a maple, the photo just didn’t do good job of showing the leaves. It was probably the only time Connor had ever seen Evan willingly participate. Connor had spun around in his seat and smiled at Evan. He wanted him to know that someone was proud of him for stepping out of his comfort zone. Evan had blushed and given Connor his own shy little smile, making the taller teen’s heart do backflips. It was, sadly, the closest Connor had ever gotten to connecting with his crush.

If trees had helped them almost connect once, then maybe if Connor brought them up, they could do it again. 

Or maybe Connor could bring up one of the books he liked. The ones he saw Evan reading alone at lunch and in the library. He had always wanted to talk about books with Evan. He never had anyone to talk about them with. He could so clearly picture reading them with Evan, maybe with the smaller boy curled up in his lap and Connor’s chin resting in his soft hair, comfortable and cozy with Evan’s hands holding the book and Connor’s arms around his waist-

No.

That part was definitely not happening.

But at least a friendship. That was what Grantaire had said, wasn’t it?

And maybe it wasn’t that unrealistic. Connor and Evan were both outcasts, both forgotten in the background, both loved the same books, were both a lot smarter than people assumed- it could work.

It really could.

If Connor could stop being a fucking wimp and just enter the goddamn computer lab already.

Grantaire and Connor had spent most of the afternoon together under the bleachers, a little hazy from the pot but happy to talk about anything that came to mind. Grantaire had told Connor more about the boy he liked… Enjolras, he had said his name was. Connor vaguely remembered hearing the name before: the boy in question ran some sort of student activist group. Connor learned that like himself, Grantaire was an artist, and that they shared the same afternoon art class. Which meant that Connor had someone to talk to there. He found he liked Grantaire. A lot of what the other boy said and did seemed to echo Connor, and it was almost comforting to see himself in someone else. To see the same insecurities and hurt and mildly fucked up mentality in another person. 

A half hour before the end of the school day, the two had parted ways. Grantaire had headed off to meet a long time friend of his (Eponine, he had said her name was), and Connor had headed inside and hung out a little way away from Evan’s locker, waiting for the other boy to show up. He could apologize to him there. It would be fine. 

Finally, Evan came walking sadly down the hallway, his head down and his arms tucked close to his body. Connor had straightened his back, preparing to approach him, but Evan had walked past his locker and turned down another hallway. Frowning, Connor had followed him.

He didn’t let himself dwell on how creepy it was that he was following his crush to god knows where.

Evan had turned into the computer lab. It was completely empty inside, and Connor knew that if he went in right away it would be obvious that he was following him. So he watched as Evan powered on a computer and began typing something before stepping back and waiting outside of the door.

And that's how Connor Murphy found himself waiting outside the computer lab. 

Just go in. Just do it. It was long enough that Evan wouldn’t know he had been followed. Connor really was a fucking coward. It wasn’t that hard. Evan was just another outcast, just like Connor. He would probably be THRILLED to have someone talk to him. So why was Connor worried?

Oh yeah. Because Connor Murphy had been branded ‘most likely to shoot up the school’ since sophomore year. 

Suddenly, Connor wanted to turn around. God, he wanted to run away. Evan didn’t want to see him… of course he didn’t. Why would he? 

But Connor had promised himself he would do this. 

Fuck it.

Hoisting his bag onto his shoulder, Connor took a few steps forward and into the computer lab.

Evan was turned away from him, finishing up something on the computer. Connor watched as he hit print, then reached up to wipe at his eyes. 

Was he crying?

Connor’s heart twisted painfully. Evan Hansen was crying, alone, in the computer lab. And there was nothing Connor could do to help. He couldn’t hold him and comfort him. He couldn’t ask him what wrong. They weren’t even friends. They were practically strangers. 

Just say something Connor.

Don’t be a fucking pussy. 

“So, what happened to your arm?”

Of all the possible things to say. 

Evan jolted, whipping around to face Connor. His eyes were wide and a little puffy, and there were small tracks of tears down his cheeks. Evan reached up to hastily wipe them away. Connor’s heart only hurt more.

So he had been crying. 

Fuck. 

The two boys locked eyes, Evan’s surprised and sad icy blue ones with Connor’s anxious brown and green ones. Evan was the first to pull away, glancing down at his cast and shrinking into himself. He seemed to be looking for something to say.

“Oh. I um… I-I fell out of a tree actually.”

Evan Hansen, fall out of a tree? Fuck that was sad. Connor’s heart twisted even more at the thought of Evan, alone and in pain, lying beneath a tree. He looked so sad even then, looking down at his cast with anger and hurt in his eyes, as if it was some painful reminder of a mistake. And Connor was just standing, staring.

Say something. Anything.

“You fell out of a tree? That is just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard, oh my god.”

Anything but that.

Evan winced, pulling into himself. He looked like he wanted to cry again. 

Change the subject Connor. Say something to make him smile. Ask him about trees, ask him about the book he was reading, ask him what he was writing, anything. Anything. He opened his mouth to say something, anything at all, but Evan let out a small, self deprecating little laugh, and mumbled something quietly, his voice shaking.

“I know.” 

Connor’s heart dropped. 

He opened his mouth again, floundering for something to say.

“No one’s signed your cast.” 

“No. I know.”

“I’ll sign it.”

Out loud, it almost sounded like he was saying it out of pity. But Connor did want to sign it. He wanted to show Evan that someone cared. That someone saw the pain he was in and wanted to be there for him. He just wanted Evan to know that he cared. 

“Oh. Um… y-you don’t have to.” 

Just say it. Tell him you want to.

“Do you have a sharpie?”

Close enough then.

Connor watched as Evan reached into his pocket, pulling out a black sharpie. He must have been hoping people would ask. Why else would he be carrying it in his pocket, the most easily accessible spot? Evan was friends with Kleinman, wasn’t he? Then why hadn’t Jared signed it? Connor made a mental note to kick his ass for not offering to sign it. For letting Evan feel like no one wanted to. 

Evan held the sharpie out for Connor, his hand shaking slightly. Connor took it, shifting his head forward and making his hair fall in his face to hide the blush that rose to his cheeks as their fingers brushed together. 

Fuck, he didn’t think this through did he? Signing Evan’s cast would involve touching his arm. Touching Evan.

Hesitantly, Connor uncapped the marker, reaching forward and grabbing Evan’s arm, trying to ignore the way his heart was racing. He paused for a second, glancing up and locking eyes with Evan again. The smaller boy looked confused and a little scared, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. 

No use delaying it.

Pulling his gaze away from Evan, Connor turned his attention back to his arm, placing the black marker to the stark white of the cast and beginning to scrawl his name in big bold letters. He stepped back slightly when he had finished, capping the marker and looking down at his work. It covered most of the front of the cast, bold and easy to see. Connor allowed himself a moment to appreciate how it looked. His name on Evan’s arm. Almost as if marking what was his. His heart stuttered, his blush worsening.

Evan was the one to break the silence.

“Oh. Th-thanks.”

He pulled his arm back towards himself, glancing down at the giant signature. 

“Now we can both pretend that we have friends.”

The words hung in the air like a cloud, tangible and tense. Connor locked eyes with Evan again. For once, he wasn't closed off. He was open and vulnerable, silently asking Evan to say something. To say that maybe they didn’t have to pretend. That maybe they could be friends. For real.

“Good point.”

The words on their own sounded sarcastic, but the way Evan said them, soft and a little scared, almost made them sound like the confirmation Connor had been hoping for. 

Now was his chance. Just say something Connor. Ask him about trees. Anything. 

Connor broke eye contact, letting himself gather his courage for a second. His eyes landed on the printer, a single sheet of paper sitting inside. It was what Evan had printed before.

Connor grabbed the paper.

“Hey, is this yours?” 

He didn’t notice the fear in Evan’s eyes. 

Connor glanced down at the paper. It looked like a letter.

“‘Dear Evan Hansen.’ That’s your name, right?”

He didn’t want Evan to know that he knew his name off by heart. 

Evan’s response was quick and stuttered.

“Oh- th-that’s just a stupid, i-it’s a paper I had to write for a-, um, f-for an assignment-”

But Connor wasn’t listening.

He was scanning the paper, his eyes landing on one particular passage. 

‘Because there’s Zoe, and all my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don’t even know, and doesn’t know me. Maybe if I could just talk to her.’

Zoe. His sister Zoe. His stupid sister who saw him as nothing more than a freak and a stoner. Zoe. Evan liked Zoe didn’t he. Why else would he write all that? Of fucking course. Zoe had everything: the adoration of her teachers, the love of their parents, and now she had Evan wrapped around her finger, the same as everyone else. The one thing Connor actually wanted, Zoe had. And she didn’t even know it. He could never have Evan. He was just the freakish brother of Evan’s crush. Of course it was Zoe. Zoe was perfect and kind and pretty and Connor was nothing but a hollow shell in dark clothing. Evan would never look his way. Never.

“This is about my sister.”

The words shook as they left his mouth, and he was clutching the letter so tight that the paper was beginning to crumple in his grip. Evan wanted him to see this didn’t he? Why else would he have printed it? He knew Connor had been following him and wanted him to find it, wanted him to find it and read it and freak out. He was just like every other fucking person who thought Connor was a freak. No, who knew Connor was a freak. 

Evan was shaking, twisting his hands together. 

“N-no. N-not at all-”

Maybe if it was any other time, Connor would have heard the fear in his voice and backed down. But he was far too angry to do that.

“You wrote this because you knew I would find this.”

“W-What?”

“You saw that I was the only other person in the computer lab, so you wrote this and printed it out so I would find it.”

Evan was really trembling now,

“No. W-why- why would I d-”

Connor interrupted him, finally looking up from the letter and fixing Evan with a look of pure anger.

“So I would read some creepy shit you wrote about my sister and freak out, right? Then you can tell everyone that I’m crazy, RIGHT?!”

His voice flared up angrily, and Evan stumbled backwards, almost tripping over a chair. He looked terrified. 

“N-No- wait- I-I don’t even- w-what?”

Connor took a step forward, his anger bubbling over. He didn’t remember the last time he was so angry. He raised his hand as if to hit Evan, too upset to realize what he was doing. But the smaller boy gasped and pulled away, shaking like a leaf, and Connor froze. 

What was he doing-

He dropped his hand, instead pointing a shaking finger at Evan. 

“Fuck you.”

And the words weren’t angry, but instead full of pain. Pain from years of loving Evan only to learn that Evan loved his perfect fucking sister.

Connor turned on his heels, storming out the computer lab. The letter still clutched tightly in his hand. He didn’t look back when he heard Evan calling after him, begging him to give him the letter back. He folded the letter, slipping it into his back pocket. 

He was done.

So fucking done.

He was done with his shit classmates, done with teachers who didn’t trust him, done with the looks of disgust from Zoe and the looks of pity from his mom, done with the way his dad looked at him like a car that needed repairs, done with living every day in the background, desperately waiting for change that would never come.

He was so FUCKING done with his stupid, hopeless crush on Evan Hansen. It would never work out anyways. Especially not with Evan in love with fucking Zoe. Well he wouldn’t get in the way of their happiness. He would let Zoe have Evan. He deserved to be happy anyways.

There was a bottle of sleep medication in his backpack. They were prescribed of course, to try and lessen his sleepless nights. But Connor always forgot to take them. But now-

It would be just like falling asleep. Alone and peaceful, surrounded by the trees Evan loved so much. He would do it in the park. He knew a spot there that was quiet and secluded. No one would find him there for a while. It was the perfect place to slip away. 

The hallways were empty. Everyone had already gone home. That meant Connor had the easiest path out of the school. He wiped angrily at the tears forming in his eyes, the sound of his combat boots on the linoleum floors the only sound. But he was too wrapped up in his thoughts to notice.

So of course he didn’t notice the sound of another pair of shoes walking towards him from around the corner. 

Not until he was colliding with their owner. 

Connor stumbled backwards, holding his throbbing head. Figured didn’t it. He just had to run into someone at that moment. 

The other boy was against the wall, his hands on his knees where they had hit Connor’s own.

“Ah, FUCK-”

Connor froze, glancing up at him.

For once the world was kind. Connor had managed to run into the only person he was mildly okay with seeing at that moment.

Grantaire looked up as well, locking eyes with Connor. He straightened up, giving Connor a lopsided grin.

“Murphy? Hey, fancy running into you..” He chuckled softly at his joke. “Did you talk to Evan?”

His smile faltered when he got a good look at Connor, the taller teen’s eyes red and angry, his hands clenched in fists at his side. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked softly.

And that was all it took.

Connor buried his face in his hands, his body shaking as he began to sob. He couldn’t believe this. How fucking pathetic could he get? Crying in front of a boy he had known for less than twelve hours? He really couldn’t do anything right.

Grantaire’s eyebrows furrowed in concern, and he brought a hand up to rest on Connor’s shoulder. Connor shoved it off.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

He tried to continue walking, hoping Grantaire wouldn’t try and stop him. But Grantaire grabbed his arm, his grip surprisingly strong. Connor tried and failed to shake the grip. 

“Uh, I think the fuck not Murphy. Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“I don’t need your fucking pity.”

  

“It’s not pity dumbass, it’s called caring. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Now tell me what happened.”

“Let me GO-”

Connor finally shook his grip, but Grantaire was too fast for him. In a second, he had Connor pinned firmly against the wall by his shoulders. Connor’s eyes widened before narrowing again to glare at Grantaire.

“What the fuck is going on Connor.”

Connor went limp in his grip, his head hanging as more tears fell down his cheeks. He choked out a sob, digging his nails into his palms hard enough to draw blood.

Maybe Grantaire recognized something in the hatred in Connor’s eyes, because his expression softened. 

“Connor?...”

“No.”

“Did something happen with that Evan kid?”

Connor clenched his jaw. “...No.”

Grantaire nodded slowly, as if thinking. “So… yes.”

“Fuck off.” The words lacked Connor’s usual contempt. He sounded like a heartbroken fifth grader. 

Grantaire sighed. “Alright. You’re coming over to my place.”

Connor tensed, looking back up at Grantaire. “What-”

“You heard me. I don’t trust you to be alone right now. I know that look Murphy, I know it all too well. Look, my parents aren’t home, so we have the house to ourselves. We can paint or some shit. I don’t want you being alone.”

The genuine concern in Grantaire’s voice was too much. He cared. He really cared. Someone actually cared enough to do something, unlike his parents who had seen his scars many times and just looked away. 

Connor’s shoulders slumped and he nodded. “Okay.”

Grantaire’s hold on him relaxed slightly, and he grabbed his arm instead. 

“Alright then. I’ll drive.”

Connor nodded numbly, placing one foot in front of the other and letting Grantaire lead him towards the parking lot.

He could always go to the park later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this took so long to update! I'm working on this as often as I'm able.
> 
> Also sorry for all the sadness in this chapter... I promise things will get happier soon. Grantaire will make sure of it.  
> Next chapter should be Evan's perspective, I'll be focusing a lot on my tree boys' perspective for a bit before bringing more of the Les Mis aspect in. I promise you'll get lots of everyone!!!
> 
> Thanks so so much for reading!!


End file.
